Exploring Her Options
by Walking Through a Dream
Summary: It starts with a conversation with Santana- an attempt to really make things right. It ends with Shannon Beiste learning that she may have more options than she feared. Beiste/OMC, underlying Brittana.


**Disclaimer: **I in no way own Glee.

**Notes: **Often when I watch Glee I find myself thinking 'how could this be fixed?', and then, because of my unseemly crush, I think, 'and how could Santana be part of the solution?'. Also, I really like Coach Beiste and I'd really like to see her happy.

This will probably only be a two, possibly three shot. This first section was actually not supposed to be anywhere near as long as it is, but that's how it happened.

**Exploring Her Options**

Santana took a deep breath as she prepared to step into Coach Beiste's office. This was going to be hard, and awkward, and awful. She had to do it, though. She owed it to the older woman, to Brittany, and to herself. She wasn't ever going to entirely change, but she'd promised herself that she would stop being outright hurtful, or failing that, that she would at least start apologizing when she screwed up. It was important to be realistic, after all. When the door clicked shut behind her Santana wasn't actually sure which of them looked less comfortable.

Shannon Beiste had spent most of her life feeling uncomfortable around girls like Santana Lopez. She hated that it still happened now when she was supposedly an authority figure, part of an entirely different social structure than the cheerleader. She was glad, however, that she had gotten better at dealing with these girls, the beautiful, mean girls. "Can I help you?" Then, "Shouldn't you be in class?"

"Ah..." Santana frowned, that was a pathetic start. She took another deep breath and started again. "I've got a free period, and the uniform basically functions as a hall pass so..." She shrugged, getting the easy part of the conversation out of the way. "And... well... OK," she rallied, "here's the thing. A couple days ago we had that... thing, and all the girls gave it some thought and sang you a song. But I was the only one that actually said anything. I don't know if anybody laughed, but even if they did it was probably just shock since sometimes that's just how it... manifests." _Manifests?_ Yeah, she was totally getting more awkward by the second. "So, yeah, basically I figured that I probably owed you a bit more than the rest of the group."

Realizing that this was meant to be an apology should have made her feel better. It killed Shannon that it didn't, that if anything she was even more tense. She wanted this to be over. "Well, it's good of you to come here and apologize, but it's alright. I know that you were just trying to be funny and that you've thought about it now. It's alright, Santana."

It was so tempting to accept that, to walk out that door and have this whole horrible ordeal be over. Unfortunately there were some things she knew really had to be said, and they hadn't been said, not even a little bit. She waffled slightly, because she could tell that Coach B really just wanted her gone. It seemed like a good excuse for a while, to leave it undone and say that it was for the sake of the other woman. She actually thought about it for long enough that there was a long, awkward stretch of silence.

In the end it was Coach Beiste who gave in. "Well, obviously you've a lemming on your tongue, so you'd best let it jump."

Lemming? Santana felt her eyebrows leap upward on her face. She automatically started running options through her head, though she was distracted by the thought that talking to Brittany may have prepared her for talking with Beiste... Whatever, she had something to say- which, she realized, was exactly what the other woman had meant. "You came to us, and told us what was up. You said you owed it to us, which, I really don't think you did. But I'm really glad you did, that you told us your story and made it real for us. You didn't owe us, but I figure maybe I do owe you some explanations."

"Alright..." Shannon was as curious as she was hesitant to hear what was coming.

"So, everyone knows that for a long time I was carrying around a lot of anger and I was taking it out on pretty much everyone else with the vicious accuracy of a sniper." Don't feel proud... don't feel too proud, she told herself. "I'm working on it, but it's not all anger, you know? Some of it's just who I am and how I've grown up, and it sounds bad, way worse than it is."

"What... do you mean, Santana?"

Right, vagueness wasn't going to get this out. It made Santana really wish that she'd thought more about how she'd word this, now that she was thinking about the size of her subject. She had about another half hour, not a couple of weeks, so she needed to pick one thing, one example that would say enough about her family to make sense. "My brother... my little brother Pablo, who'll be causing his share at McKinley next year, has taken to calling me 'Dyke'. In previous years he's used 'Slut Bag', 'Garbage Face'... I'm not sure I actually remember the last time he said my name."

Shannon shook her head, imagining it, "That's terrible."

"Sometimes," Santana shrugged. "I mean, it wears, and it's worse the more I'm afraid that the names might be true, but, it's not like it's a new thing and most of my nicknames for him don't sound too nice to other people. For other people to see sometimes something big has to happen." She silently admitted that she was as guilty as anyone for needing blinking, neon sign-like events sometimes.

"A few weeks ago," Santana continued, "I was sent on an errand with him to get him yet another pair of shoes. I swear, at this rate the kid is going to be a size 27... Anyway, when we were outside there were some guys from the middle school, his classmates, teammates probably. They start teasing him- about me, using the same word he's been shouting out at me for a couple months now." Santana had felt awful for a moment, hurt for herself and also because she was being used to hurt someone else, to hurt her family. After a moment though, she'd had other things to feel. "My little brother was silent for maybe a second before he was shouting back at them, telling them in no uncertain terms that they'd best have some respect. He was probably about three seconds away from being in an all-out fist fight with seven other guys before I called out Snix to change things up." Snix would always be a part of Santana. She'd just try to use her more often for good. "It was obvious which of the little monsters was calling the shots so I got in his face. Actually, my chest was in his face first, then my face, since middle school guys are always so short. Naturally that worked totally in my favor and his brain was way too short circuited to even think about not letting me have my say." It had felt a lot like the time she'd stood up to Dave when he'd been harassing Kurt and Blaine at their disastrous Night of Neglect, except so much more personal. "I pretty much humiliated the guy, made sure to make it about me and being a girl- so they wouldn't be able to take it out on Pablo- and didn't he want that testicle to drop one day… which, you know, is pretty much the only violent, scary threat you can make and still be seen as a 'girl'," she rolled her eyes.

It was an assessment that Shannon was inclined to agree with. "No matter how many ladies know how to protect themselves, it's only 'OK' to be beaten by a girl who was crass or crazy enough to go for the junk."

The snort that followed was graceless but expressive. "No shit." Then more seriously, "But the point is what that day reminded me. My brother and I say horrible things to each other all the time, but when it comes down to it, he's actually proud of me and I'm ridiculously proud of him. He's rude, and brave, and witty when he's not being kind of a moron- and he's going to have to find a girl who's super patient because he's a Lopez and therefore is going to spend a huge percentage of his life saying the wrong thing." Santana knew that she had that embarrassing, glassy eyed 'I'm about to cry' face, but she had almost got it out now. "I say the wrong thing all the time- like this one time when I made a joke about abuse when I was really just trying to tell this woman that I thought she was invincible since she's such an obvious badass."

Shannon was crying a little, in a silent way, but the tear tracks were undeniable. "Thank you," and this time she actually meant it. She still felt guilty, ashamed and a little frightened, but hearing the compliment that was originally delivered as a verbal slap in the face, made a crack in those feelings for just a little light to get through. "That means a lot. I guess... Well, I guess I was a bit too quick to judge too, maybe. The point stands about those kind of jokes, but maybe I'd have heard what else you were saying if I hadn't already decided that someone like you wouldn't ever compliment me."

Santana narrowed her eyes a little at 'someone like you'. It was a phrase that was starting to become code for 'you freaky homosexual who I am uncomfortable with'. She realized that this case was different though. The Cheerios most likely represented a large portion of everyone who had ever been really awful to Coach Beiste. And men, probably the kind that she'd been most interested in, would have made up the rest. This was not a conversation that Santana should be having. One of this woman's actual friends should be here. God, she wished her girlfriend was with her. Brittany's condolences and supportive comments often left people confused, but at least they were always sincere and could generally put a smile on the other person's face. "Well, sometimes people are stupid about giving credit where it's due. Just look at Britts, nobody ever sees how smart she is, especially with people. And she rocks at seeing their strengths, and how they're beautiful. I mean, she kind of over appreciated your boo… Uh…" Most of that had not been meant to come out of her mouth. She only just barely kept herself from adding 'but you can't have Brittany.' And that's when it hit her…

Around eight years ago was the first time she remembered talking about him. Brittany had been stuffing as many toys as she could into her tiny suitcase (her parents had clothes, and things she'd actually need already packed in another) while Santana waited downstairs to see her off. Mr and Mrs Pierce were also in their bright living room waiting on their oldest daughter, so they were chatting with the little girl. They'd made the kind of small talk that adults make to children, specifically children who are trying to pretend that they aren't distressed about their best friends going away for a 'whole four days', and then Mrs Pierce had said something odd. 'You know, whenever we take the girls to see my little brother I end up feeling a bit... left out?' At Santana's nearly comically scrunched eyebrows and cocked head, she'd continued with a laugh. 'Brittany takes after her Uncle Danny to a scary degree. They get talking and they both know exactly what's going on and it's everyone else who's left confused.'

Since then Britt's uncle had moved closer and Santana had met him a number of times. It had only become more true- the guy was totally an older, male Brittany. If nothing else it would be a fantastic distraction for the teacher. It also had the potential to be hilarious.

For her part, Shannon listened to the well intentioned ramble with increasing horror. She'd never meant to make the girl feel like she had to 'fix things' or comfort her. She was also amazed to see just how bad Santana was at comforting. She was probably worse than most of the guys who'd ever told her that they just weren't good with emotions or, God forbid, crying women. "I think, and I don't want to make you feel bad, but I think that you should let other people do the comforting while you stand in the background and look supportive."

"I know, right? Believe me; if someone else was here I would be happily, solemnly nodding along." They both laughed out a little of the tension that had built. "But yeah, despite the horrific awkwardness of this conversation, it has led to me coming up with a truly brilliant idea." Once again Coach Beiste found herself sliding into apprehension as the subject shifted. "You need someone who is in no way a douche bag, whose name in no way refers to a vagina,"- Beiste frowned at this- "to show you a good time. Distract you a bit- show you that there's totally options. And I know exactly the guy."

Apprehension was a lot closer to terror now. Even if she didn't have to worry about Cooter, the thought of being set up by Santana Lopez would be genuinely terrifying. "Oh, I really don't think that's a good idea. My sister's place is a good commute and with the prep work I've got for the end of the season, I'd never have time. That's so sweet of you to offer though," her smile was desperate.

Santana willfully ignored the other woman's desperation. She'd found their salvation, damn it. "I'll just get him to come here and take you to lunch tomorrow. That way your first date has a definite time limit and will be totally low key. It'll be perfect."


End file.
